


Local Goat Bakes Pie, More Tonight at 10

by Doogly_Writes



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Baking, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-19 12:16:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5967130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doogly_Writes/pseuds/Doogly_Writes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Asgore bakes a pie</p>
            </blockquote>





	Local Goat Bakes Pie, More Tonight at 10

Frisk and Asgore were in the family kitchen, both looking through Toriel’s cookbook, trying to find her recipe for Butterscotch Cinnamon pie. Frisk wanted to help Asgore cook for his anniversary, celebrating when the two first got married centuries ago. He used to regret waking up on this date, a pain hitting his chest at the thought of pies, but now that he wasn’t cripplingly depressed and was happily together with his wife, he wanted to do something special. He wanted to cook for her.

“Here! I found it,” said Frisk, she pointed at the recipe scrawled in the old book. She skimmed through the ingredients and instructions and told Asgore what to get and where to put it. She prepared the cooking area, putting the mixing bowls and measuring cups where they needed to be.

“First things first,” she got up and stuck her hand in the flour bag, “we need to make the crust.” She flicked some of the white powder onto the table beside the oven. “Ok, you go soften the butter and I’ll mix the rest of the stuff.” She handed him a small bowl with a stick of butter inside of it. He summoned a small flame from his hand. He eased it under the bowl and slightly melted the butter. Once that was down, he plopped it into the mixing bowl with the rest of the dry ingredients.

“Ok, you start stirring until it starts to look like bread crumbs,” Frisk ordered. Asgore nodded and took a wooden spoon from its container, mixing everything together, “tell me when it starts to shake up.

Frisk got up from her chair and organized the remaining ingredients that Asgore brought in, making sure everything was in order.

“When did you get so good at baking?” he asked, “I’ve never really seen you cook before.”

“We baked a small pie for a school thing not that long ago. It’s pretty easy honestly,” she said, “How’s it going over there?”

“It looks pretty crumby.”

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, it looks fine,” Frisk joked, Asgore chuckled at it, “ok, I’m gonna pour in a little water, just   
keep stirring.” She walked over with the jug she filled, and started to slowly pour it in. Once the dough started to form, she stopped.

“Ok, now just get it on the table and roll it out,” she moved away again, “it should still be a little thick. Once you’re done with that, just put it in a pie tin and in the oven. It says for three hundred and sixty degrees for fifteen minutes.”

Asgore rolled out the pie and carefully laid it down into the tin. He put on his oven mitts, each embroidered with “Mr. Dad Hands,” and put the crust in the oven. The sweet smell of crust baking filled the kitchen. Frisk took in a big inhale and sighed at the scent.

“Ok, now for the filling,” said Frisk as she leafed through the cookbook. “Ok, put the milk, flour, brown sugar, cinnamon, butter and all that into a bowl.”

“Ok,” said Asgore as he mixed the ingredients together inside a small pot, “what next?”

“Apply light heat and keep mixing,” she said, “don’t stop stirring, it’ll burn.” 

He turned on the burner to a simmer and slowly mixed the filling together, a new sweet smell arising from it. Once it started to   
thicken, Frisk stuck a spoon into the pot, and blew on the scoop she got to cool it off. She ate a part of it.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, “perfect.” She offered the spoon to Asgore, who took a small bite himself, his eyes watering slightly at the taste familiar taste. A *ding* sounded as the timer ran out. Asgore removed the pot from the heat and took the crust out of the oven.   
He poured the filling into the case and set it aside to cool. He put a pot of water to boil and prepared tea.

“Thanks Frisk, I couldn’t have done it without you.” He said as he ruffled her hair. The door opened.

“I’m home,” called Toriel from the front. Asgore jogged forward to help her with the groceries she bought. The kettle started to whistle. Asgore jogged back, several bags in each hand as he raced to the kitchen. He set them down and hastily poured two cups of   
tea, one lump in hers, two in his. He stirred the cups to dissolve the sugar as fast as he could.

Toriel walked into the kitchen, a few bags in her arms, “Wow, what’s with the rush?”

Asgore grabbed the pie from where he set it down. He turned and showed his magnum opus. “I baked us a pie for our Anniversary!”

“Oh, sweetie,” she said, her free hand covering her mouth, “That’s amazing! Did you cook it yourself?”

“Well… kinda,” he scratched the back of his head, “I did most of the work, but Frisk helped.”

“Good enough for me,” she shrugged, “but there’s a small problem.”

“What is it, honey?”

“I already baked a pie, too” she pulled out a freshly baked pie from one of the bags she was carrying.

Asgore stopped for a second, his face showing no emotion, “Oh…” he started, “How is that a problem? I’d call it a blessing!” He let out a hearty laugh.

Toriel chuckled as well, “I suppose you’re right. Two pies are better than one,” she set down her bags, “Now let’s put these groceries away so we can begin eating.”

“Can’t the groceries wait?”

Toriel stopped for a second, and turned to face her husband, her eyes burning into him. “No.” 

Asgore helped put away the goods of trade without further confrontation; his wife could be scary if she wanted to be. After everything was put in its place, the two brought their respective pies to the table, and prepared to eat. They grabbed a piece from their opposing pastry and took a bite.

“I hope that it’s ok,” said Asgore, he sniffled slightly. Toriel was frozen, the fork still held in her mouth. “Oh no,” Asgore panicked a little bit, “Is it that bad?” Toriel slowly removed the fork from her mouth and swallowed, “’Is it that bad?’” she repeated, “Honey, it’s not bad. It’s…” She shoveled another large bite into her mouth, and other, “It’s so, so good.” She annihilated her first piece and immediately cut herself another.

“Oh,” he said, in shock from her ravenous behavior, “I’m glad you like it, I could never quite get it right before. Seems like I’ve hit the nail in the head this time.” Toriel calmed down after beginning her second piece, though she still ate excitedly. After the two demolished any of the remaining pie from their tins, they got up and placed their dishes in the sink, the flecks of pie falling into the suds filled water and down the drain. Asgore scrubbed at the pie tins, cleaning them off and placing them on the drying rack. Toriel came up and hugged him behind.

“Tonight was amazing honey,” she kissed his neck, “I really ought to make you cook more.”

Asgore chuckled nervously at that, “I don’t think that’s quite the best idea.”

“Eh, it was worth a try,” she hugged him a little bit tighter, “Happy Anniversary, my King Fluffybuns.”


End file.
